


New beginnings

by needmesomepie



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: :), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of Violence, New Year, Period-Typical Homophobia, come on it's me, don't get used to it lmao, i haven't killed anyone in this though, that's got to count for something right?, when is anything i ever write just pure fluff without pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needmesomepie/pseuds/needmesomepie
Summary: "Although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."- Carl Bard
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	New beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> new year, new me..
> 
> jokes i'm just back to cause you all pain, hi

Steve never particularly felt like celebrating on new years eve, never really felt like ringing in a new year of loneliness and future paths that had already been written out for him. He'd do it, drink and get lost in the atmosphere of it all amongst friends, drink till he forgot why he was drinking, count down to a new year he had no reason to be excited for. But this year he was all alone, sitting in his house that was far too big for just one person, collapsed on the floor of the kitchen with an almost empty bottle of whiskey in hand. It wasn't like he'd been ditched, it's just that everyone had plans and it was okay, it was, he didn't resent them for it. Hopper and Joyce were spending the evening together after they'd _finally_ admitted their feelings for each other back at the beginning of December. Nancy and Jonathan were off in some hotel out of state, getting away together before college took over their lives again. His parents were a no show as they were for 90 percent of Steve's life. All of the kids were at a party thrown by a classmate which they'd all complained about needing to go to, conceding only when they'd heard _'it'll be a good experience'_ at least three times from each respective family member. Robin was spending the evening with Heather like Steve had told her she absolutely had to do, no need to worry about him. Even Murray and Alexei were off doing something at a fair somewhere, something about Slurpee's and winning toys on fairground stalls. Steve was happy for all of them and he didn't for a second resent any of them for having plans that didn't fit with his, it was life and he wasn't about to go and ruin any of their evenings just because he was alone on an evening of something he didn't even feel like celebrating. He knew what the year held for him, friends going back off to college and his path to working for his father's company having it's final layer of concrete lain. It wasn't exactly something to cheer about.

The bottle of whiskey clinked as it hit the floor, Steve having downed all of the three mouthfuls left in it when he'd found it in his father's study. It had warmed his throat as it passed, brought with it the feeling of something familiar, something he could cling on to as the year ticked over into another. Or it would, if he had enough to get him through to midnight. He searched the house top to bottom and found nothing, got in his car as he hoped the shop on the outskirts of town would still be open with a couple of hours to go before the clocks ticked over into a new year. It was well known amongst the Hawkins' teenagers that Ol' Uncle Ken would give you a bottle so long as no word was breathed to the police if they ever got questioned. It had been going on for years, no one had ever let it slip (even if the old guy had been manning the shop for so long that Hawkins' very own chief of police had once set foot in that shop to buy alcohol before he was of legal age to do so too). All in all, worse things were happening in the world than a guy selling legit alcohol to a few teenagers rather than them resorting to other less than safe means of a temporary high on the backstreets. No one caused too much trouble, so no one really minded.

As Steve rounded the corner to the store he saw one other car parked outside, one he recognised instantly. It was Ken's, a beat up old thing that looked almost as bad as his shop front, one flickering light bursting to life every five or so seconds to let people know he was actually open. Steve laughed, it was charming in it's own unique way.

He got out of his car, the chill of the air biting at his fingertips as he walked towards the door. When he walked in he saw Ken in the middle of the aisle, mop in hand and a scowl on his face.

"Alright, Ken?" He shouted above the sounds of a not quite in tune radio.

"I was until that new one came in, fallin' all over the floor and droppin' my stock."

Steve held back a smile at Ken's tone, he loved the old man, he did, but for someone who's business came mostly from teenagers, he didn't half hate them.

"New one?" He asked, taking the mop from Ken and cleaning up the vodka that had been spilt on the floor.

"Yeah, mullet disaster." He said, tutting to himself as he swept up the glass.

"Hargrove?" Steve asked after a beat, holding the mop still.

"Yeah. You'd do well to keep away from that one, kid." Ken replied, took the mop back from Steve with a gentle thanks.

"Didn't expect him to be all the way out here on new years eve."

"I'd rather he hadn't been, boy wasn't in a good way."

Steve frowned, picked up a bottle of whiskey off the shelf.

"What you doin' needin' that?" Ken asked him as he put it on the counter.

"Didn't want to end the year alone." He said with a wry smile, grinned as Ken let out a soft laugh.

"Don't do anything stupid now will ya, got a bright future ahead of you, kid. Wouldn't want to see it go to waste."

"All my future exists of is walking in my fathers shoes. Nothing bright about that." He said, handing over his money.

"Now, now, my boy, don't start thinkin' things like that. We all have choices to make and paths to take, don't you let anyone tell you which is for you. I've known you since you were as tall as my knee and that smile has gotten dimmer over these years. You only get one shot at this life, my boy, walk in your own shoes, build your own path, find _your_ reason to smile. Don't make the mistakes so many have made before." He said, held back his change until he was sure Steve understood what he meant.

"Thanks." Steve said as he took his change, shot the man a genuine smile.

"What for?" He asked, smirked.

"The whiskey." Steve replied, not faltered, let his lips slip up into a matching grin.

Ken just winked at him, shooing him off into the night.

"Happy new year, Ken." Steve said as he opened the door, let the chill of the night rattle through his bones.

"Happy new year, kid." He replied, smiled as Steve left with a smile wider than the one he'd walked in with.

As Steve walked back to his car he heard a clash as a bottle fell to the floor around the corner, waited as a groan followed afterwards. Against all better judgement, Steve walked towards the noise and in reality he probably should have expected what he found, Billy Hargrove slumped up against the wall in a less than sober state. It wasn't like Ken hadn't warned him.

"Har'n'ton, tha' you?" Billy slurred out, barely able to open his eyes.

"Yeah. What you doing all the way out here? Thought you'd have been at Tommy's party."

"Di'n't feel like goin'." He continued to slur his words, Steve barely being able to understand what he was saying. But part of him had gotten used to it, the way Billy spoke when he'd had one too many. It didn't stop him from being concerned though, Billy was never one to say no to a party and Steve didn't know him _that_ well, but they had been hanging out a bit for the past few months and he felt he knew him a little better than most. They didn't talk about much when they were together, mostly just drank and smoked and mocked each other's music tastes, but Steve always felt there was something about Billy he was keeping secret. He'd never pried, didn't want to lose whatever kind of weird and tentative friendship they'd seemed to form, but he worried then like he was worried now. Billy got drunk, yes. _A lot_. But even this was a level up for him, and he was _alone._ Steve had never known him get anywhere near half as drunk as this unless he was at a party, surrounded by groups of people he could prove a point to.

"Come on, you're as drunk as i need to be. I'm taking you back home."

"No." There was a sobering sincerity that came with that one word, as if every drop of alcohol he'd consumed in the day had just evaporated out of him in the same way it does when you stand on the doorstep after a night out, knowing your parents are beyond the front door.

"What?" Steve asked, still holding on to Billy's arm where he'd begun to help him up.

"Not home. Anywhere but home." He said, leaning into Steve's grip. Steve didn't pry, he never did, just held onto Billy as he helped him into his car, said 'back to mine then?' to which Billy had vehemently nodded. So Steve drove them back, glanced over every now and then to see a nostalgic looked plastered on Billy's face, wondered what was going through his mind. A part of him wanted to reach over and grab his hand, tell him everything was going to be alright, that he'd be here for him through it all, until the sun rose on the path ahead. But Steve didn't, instead keeping both of his hands firmly on the wheel, never mind all of the flirting and the little touches and the thoughts he had at night. They were mates and nothing more, he knew that, no matter that the flirting went two ways and was usually started by Billy. And it wasn't like it was anything serious, no big declarations of love or chocolates in lockers. Just banter between mates that sometimes toed across the 'mates' line. Steve hadn't been so chill about it at first, Billy had flirted in a way that only Billy could and Steve had reciprocated almost without thinking and it had felt _right_. He'd run to Robin about a week later and done the whole 'i kind of maybe fancy my friend who's a guy and i'm a guy and i don't know what to do about that' freakout thing and she'd talked him through it calmly and so nicely and Steve was still thanking her a month and a half later for it. But Steve refrained, knew the thoughts he harboured were a one way thing. Billy had a new girl hanging off his arm every week, probably took them home once and moved onto the next, Steve wasn't sure, they didn't talk about that either. But there was no way Billy Hargrove was into him, or any guy for that matter. It just didn't seem to fit.

Steve helped Billy into his house, sat him down on the floor, back up against the sofa and sat next to him with his newly purchased bottle of whiskey. He took a sip, offered it over to Billy. He gulped a swig down.

"Why you alone in this big arse house of yours for new year then, princess?" He asked, shoulder touching Steve's.

"Didn't have any plans."

"Mummy and daddy not home?"

"Haven't been in months." Billy turned to him then, movements slow but sure. They didn't talk about this kind of thing either.

"They just leave you here alone?"

Steve nodded, watched as Billy's face sunk into puzzlement, "they barely ever come home."

"That's awful."

"Parents suck." He said, arm next to Billy's.

"Bet i can beat your little sob story." Billy said, no mirth to his words. Steve smiled.

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh."

"Go on then." Billy grinned, like he knew he had the winning hand.

"Ya know those bruises on my face from last week," he started, pointing lazily up to his left eye that had been blue just a few days ago, Steve nodded as he continued, "my dad." He finished, looked at Steve with a grin almost beaming with pride. Steve just looked at him, frozen, horrified.

"Your dad did that to you?" He asked, hand going up to rest on his cheek, thumb gliding over the faint yellow of an old bruise.

Billy's expression dropped, the look in his eyes one of dread, like he'd just realised what he'd admitted to. He gulped, couldn't tear his eyes away from Steve's.

"Yeah." It was broken, strained, deeper than usual. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and drank, focused on the smooth movements of Steve's fingertips on his face.

"Has he done it before?" Steve asked, catching Billy's eyes again. He felt billy freeze, saw the barriers come up in his eyes. His other hand held onto Billy's, tried to ground him. He couldn't let him go, not now.

Billy looked down at their hands, didn't fight as a tear slipped down his cheek. He looked back at Steve, all of those barriers coming crashing down around them with each tear that fell down his face. The look in his eyes told Steve everything he needed to know and he fell onto him, gripped his arm around his shoulders, sunk his head to the crook of his neck and hugged him, his other hand gripping Billy's tight.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, pulled his arm tighter around Billy and felt him wince. He pulled back, looked him dead in the eye.

"Has he hurt you tonight?"

Billy just nodded, drank more of the whiskey.

Steve dropped his hand down to the hem of Billy's worn t-shit, lifted the hem slightly and looked at Billy, gaged his reaction. Billy nodded and leant forward, turned so Steve would have a better view.

Steve wasn't ready for what greeted him when he pulled Billy's t-shirt up to his neck. A field of yellows and browns and purples and greens littered his back from top to bottom, a deep red mark by his right shoulder the most recent of the lot. Steve felt sick. There wasn't an inch of Billy's skin that wasn't covered in scars and scabs and bruises of various ages.

"How long has this been going on for?" Steve was angry. No, scrap that, he was _furious_. How could someone do that to anyone, let alone their own _son_.

"Started about two years before we moved here."

"Why?"

"Didn't want a faggot for a son." He listed it off almost without a care in the world, as if it was _normal_ for a man to beat his son. Billy reached for the bottle, took a swig. Steve just stared, tried to process all of the information coming flying at him. They didn't talk about things like this. They barely talked at all but Steve was glad they were. The inclination that Billy might actually be into guys was a little too much for Steve, though not quite as much as the fact that his dad _hit_ him. _Regularly_.

"You okay there, pretty boy?" Billy asked, breaking him from the marathon of thoughts running a riot around his mind.

"I've been better." He said, tightening his hold on Billy's hand.

"Don't worry about me, princess, i'm used to it." And that just angered Steve further, made him see red. No one should be used to something like that. _No one._

"But you shouldn't be, can't you see how wrong that is?" He said, raising his voice, involuntarily gripping Billy's hand tighter.

Billy just laughed, infuriating Steve more.

"How can you find this funny?" He yelled, trying to catch his eye line. Billy stayed focused on the bottle.

And he just continued laughing, holding the bottle up to his lips.

"Because if i don't, i'll try and end it again. It ain't going to stop Steve, just forget about it."

"End it? End what, Billy? The abuse? Or your life?" The conversation was getting heated, they were yelling at each other. Steve's grip on Billy's hand tightened.

Billy looked him dead in the eye and drank and it was all the answer that Steve needed. There was a spitefulness to his glare, like he alone was the reason Steve was hurting.

Billy tried to take his hand back from Steve, Steve only gripped it tighter as Billy went to stand up.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't know, don't care." He replied, still trying to break free from Steve's grip.

"Would you stop?" Steve yelled, holding Billy's hand still.

"Why?"

"Because i don't want you to go?"

"What, so you can _heal_ me, use me as a reason to feel good about your own shitty parents? I'll pass." It was spiteful, biting.

"What? No! You're my _friend_ Billy, I want to spend the night with you."

"Friend?" He asked, something flickering across his face that Steve couldn't quite catch.

"Yes, stay. _Please_."

Steve tugged on his hand when he didn't reply, pulled him forwards in a way he didn't think was too forceful. He probably should have taken into consideration, though, that Billy had drunk _a lot_ and steadiness was probably a trait he didn't possess at that current moment, which Steve realised as Billy tripped and ended up on the floor. He laughed, grip on the bottle and Steve's hand unwavering. Steve let out a chuckle, leaning down to help Billy up. He put the hand not still holding Billy's around his waist, using both arms to help drag Billy up. Billy just continued to laugh, flicked his gaze to Steve's.

"Like it rough do ya, pretty boy?" He said, giggle following his words.

"Only if they're worth it." Billy laughed again, now standing opposite Steve.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Am i worth it?" He said, blinking at Steve, swaying on his feet slightly.

Steve pondered for a second, bringing a hand to his chin to accentuate the point.

"Hmm, not sure yet."

"Yet?" Billy asked, hand gripping Steve's hand back. Steve just winked, lead Billy to the pool.

"Shit, princess. You got it good, don't ya." Billy said as Steve pulled back the curtains covering the view to the yard.

"Depends on your definition of good." He said, taking the bottle of whiskey back from Billy, taking a sip. He stopped when they were at the pools edge.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve asked after a few minutes, sombre look bedding itself in his features.

"Didn't think you'd want to know." Billy replied. It was genuine.

"You can tell me anything, Billy. Please don't bottle it up."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Steve said, stripping his shirt over his head, sending Billy a wink. His shoes were next, then his trousers and socks until all that remained were his boxers. He spared a quick glance at the time on his watch as he threw it on top of the pile of his discarded clothes, 15 minutes until the new year.

"Coming?" He asked, cocked his head towards the pool before he smirked and jumped in. The water splashed up, coated Billy from head to toe. Steve laughed as he came back above the surface.

"You bastard." Billy said, grin wide across his face. Then he took off his top, his shoes and socks and trousers all following until, like Steve, he stood in his boxers. But, unlike where Steve had stopped, Billy then pulled them down too, agonisingly slowly, tongue wagging across his lower lip. Steve froze. He'd fantasied, endlessly, but he'd never actually been confronted with a very naked Billy standing beside his pool.

"Alright there, pretty boy? Cat got your tongue?" Billy smirked. Steve swallowed, mouth going dry.

Billy took slow steps until his toes were hanging over the edge, eyes keeping steady contact with Steve's. He jumped.

Steve lost sight of him beneath the splash and the waves on the waters surface, was still too preoccupied with the sight of a very naked Billy to see Billy coming to the surface right in front of him.

"Harrington." He said, two inches from his face.

"Hargrove." Steve choked out.

"I can really tell you anything?" He asked, a look of feigned innocence etched on his face.

"Uh huh."

"Absolutely anything?" Billy said again, pushing Steve slowly backwards until they reached the edge of the pool, put his hands on either side of the pools edge behind him.

"Anything you want."

"You know when i call you pretty?" He asked, face leaning a centimetre closer.

Steve nodded.

"I ain't lying."

Steve just stared at Billy, words escaping him.

"I think you're really, really pretty, Steve." Billy said, inching closer to Steve's face with every syllable.

"You do huh?" Steve said, finally finding his voice, letting the shock of Billy's confession wash over him, choosing instead to embrace what he wanted.

"Uh huh."

"Ya know," he whispered, Billy's face so close he felt the words more than he heard them, "I think you're really pretty too."

Billy smiled, a genuine little thing. And then, just as the clock struck midnight, just as the bells chimed in the start of the new year, just as the fireworks lit up the sky above them, Billy closed the last tiny bit of space between them.

The fireworks ended before their kiss did and somewhere along the line, Steve's boxers had ended up somewhere on the pool's floor. Steve thought it was probably the best beginning to any year he'd ever experienced.

They sat on the edge of the pool as another set of fireworks somewhere down the road were set off above them. The sky was a party of greens and yellows and reds and blues, purples and oranges and silvers and golds and Steve's heart was warm, whole, as he sat on the edge of the pool with Billy, bottle of whiskey in one hand and Billy's hand in the other, watching the sky.

They drank and they kissed and they smoked a spliff Billy had found in his pocket and neither had any reason to move or leave each others side.

Steve smiled to himself, leant his head on Billy's shoulder as Ken's earlier words rung around his mind.

_"Build your own path. Find your reason to smile."_

It was early and it was new, but Steve was smiling and for the first time in a long time, he didn't entirely dread the new year ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> ...happy new year?
> 
> promise i won't kill anyone until at least february
> 
> :)))))
> 
> come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://lemonflavouredspatula.tumblr.com/)


End file.
